


Not So Useless

by Lazy8



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Being Lost, Gen, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/pseuds/Lazy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle with the Watcher took a slightly different turn, and now Emil is lost in the Silent World with nobody coming to save him. Or at least, so he thinks...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Useless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for this prompt:
> 
> Our resident Swede has absolutely no sense of direction. Reynir puts his past experience as a shepherd to good use, while Sigrun digs a grave for Emil and Lalli freaks out and probably has to be sedated or something.

Rubbing the lump on his head, Emil tried to remember what had happened the night before.

It had all started with that braided kid panicking for no apparent reason, and Tuuri saying something to Sigrun about Reynir and ghosts.  He’d still been worried about Lalli and so hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention… then Lalli was screaming, Sigrun and Mikkel had collapsed on the floor, the tank was moving with Tuuri babbling something in panicked Finnish, Reynir was on his knees babbling in equally panicked Icelandic, and Emil was just trying to keep Lalli from hurting himself and hopefully not get all of his hair yanked out in the process.  Then they’d come to that roadblock, Sigrun (awake again) had ordered him to stand watch, and then…

Well, then, Sigrun had yelled, Emil had gone rushing back to the tank with flamethrower in hand, and everything after that had been nothing but flailing tentacles, sprays of water, and dancing flames as he’d jerked his weapon up in a panic.  All he had after that were images:  brief flashes that failed to give him any sort of coherent picture.  Sigrun, thrown off the pier and into the water, her fall so slow to his eyes it was almost as if her body was hovering in midair.  Mikkel, axe raised against a backdrop of flames.  The taillights glowing red as Tuuri floored the tank.  The flamethrower knocked from his hands, a sharp pain in his forehead, and then…

…and then nothing.  Emil had no memory of what had happened after that.

The only thing he knew was that he’d woken to a shaft of light in his eyes, and after a few minutes of confused blinking, he’d realized three things.  One:  it was morning.  Two:  he was buried under a not-inconsiderable amount of rubble.  Three:  he was alone.

Alone.  In the Silent World.  Without shelter, or fire, or clean water, or food.

Sigrun would say he was lucky, he knew.  Somehow, he’d managed to find himself in a pocket under the rubble, with no injuries any worse than a few bruises, he’d been able to dig himself out, and he still had _most_ of his weapons… but luck or no luck, Emil didn’t see how he was going to make it back to the others alive—or, for that matter, at all.

He was in the middle of the Silent World, and he was completely, utterly lost.

* * *

 “Lalli, you’re _sick_.  If you try to go after him now you’re not going to come back either.”

 Tuuri was close to tears, holding her cousin by the shoulders as he struggled to get out of bed.  Though Lalli had finally managed to wake up the morning after they’d fled both giant and ghosts, he was still without his luonto, and still too weak to do much more than stagger from one end of the tank to the other.

 “The stupid Swede doesn’t know what he’s doing!” Lalli hissed back as he pushed against her—somehow his cousin, the skald, who’d never done a day’s fighting in her life, was successfully holding him down, and Lalli was close to the end of his rope.  “Emil can’t make it out there on his own!”  Emil had never been out in the Silent World by himself before, not without Lalli or Sigrun looking out for him.  He couldn’t aim to save his life and he didn’t even believe in magic; what was he going to do if he ran into a troll, or into those spirits that had attacked them last night?  Emil couldn’t defend himself without help, and… and…

“ _Lalli!_ ”  Tuuri actually _was_ crying now, her grip on his shoulders tightening.  “ _Emil didn’t make it._   Mikkel saw him get buried under the rubble.  Even if he somehow managed not to get crushed, there’s no way he would have survived a night alone in the Silent World.”  She removed a hand from Lalli’s shoulder to wipe her eyes, but by this point Lalli had stopped fighting.  “The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Sigrun, meanwhile, was making her own staggering way to the front of the tank.

“Mikkel,” she said without preamble.  “How long do you say it will be before we can send out the scout again?”

“With the condition he’s in?  Several days, at least.”  He ran a hand over his chin.  “So unless you want to risk moving through unscouted territory again…”

“No.”  She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders with a shiver; though she’d somehow managed to drag herself out of the icy water before she’d frozen to death, it had been considerably longer before anyone had been able to focus on not getting beheaded for long enough to get her out of her soaking wet clothes.  By the time they’d gotten around to it she’d been shivering uncontrollably, and even after they were out of danger Sigrun had spent the remainder of the night wrapped up in blankets sitting next to the stove, downing cup after cup of the heated water that Mikkel had made her drink.  “We stay here until we’ve recovered, and then we pull out.  I’m aborting the mission.”

* * *

 Reynir had thought that he’d felt bad before.  As he was quickly figuring out, however, he was only just learning the depths of bad it was possible to feel.

Though he hadn’t known Emil very well and couldn’t have spoken with him even if he’d wanted to, the thought that the man who’d been sitting a few steps away from him only the night before was gone, was never going to be there again, was almost too hard to process.  He’d been within arm’s reach of where Reynir was sitting now, kneeling by Lalli’s unconscious body and trying to get the others’ attention…

Should Reynir have pushed harder for them to leave their campsite?  Even if they wouldn’t have believed him, maybe if he’d remembered that dream earlier, then they could have avoided this whole mess…

His thoughts were interrupted by Sigrun coming in his direction, muttering something in Norwegian as she bent to Emil’s bunk.  She didn’t walk like she normally did:  her movements were still slow and jerky, as if her limbs were still stiff from the cold.  She grabbed something:  the handle of Emil’s suitcase, which she opened, still muttering, and began to dig through its contents.

“What—?”  Tuuri was still saying something in Finnish to Lalli, who now sat looking away from her while maintaining a stony silence, so Reynir instead looked to Mikkel, who had shuffled in after Sigrun.  “What’s she doing?”

“It’s too risky to go back and look for the body, so some of his belongings will just have to do.  She intends to hold a funeral after we’ve gotten in touch with home base, and informed Emil’s uncle and aunt of what happened.”

Reynir swallowed.  Emil was… dead?

“I recommend you try to get some rest.”  Reynir was jarred out of his contemplation by Mikkel’s voice.  “And stay out of Sigrun’s way.”

* * *

Standing behind the tank, Reynir looked back out over the train tracks, and took a deep breath.  The air wheezed in and out through the filters of his mask, and the kitten he carried squirmed in his hands.

“ _But Sigrun will go back for him, right?  Tuuri?_ ”

“ _She won’t._ ”

“ _But what if he—_ ”

“ _Reynir.”  She actually slammed her map down on the dashboard, causing him to jump.  “Emil is dead, and we’re not going back.  Don’t even try to ask her.”_

He was so useless.  Reynir had been completely useless from beginning to end.  Well, if the night before had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t _have_ to be.  He was the most expendable member of the crew, he wasn’t even supposed to be here, and he doubted anyone would even notice if he disappeared.  If Emil was still alive, Reynir would find him, and if he wasn’t… well, the least he could do was bring back the body.

Sigrun was still going through Emil’s things, Tuuri was busy plotting their course home, Mikkel was talking to the ground crew on the radio, and Lalli was curled up in the corner staring at nothing.  Reynir wouldn’t be missed.

He set off at a brisk walk, following the train tracks.  The day was sunny, the weather cold, and as Reynir walked he mentally recited everything Mikkel had managed to impart to him about how best to handle oneself in the Silent World:  stay in the light, don’t make a lot of noise, wear a mask if you’re not immune, and always, always carry a cat.

There was still a chance that something would eat him.  Other than that, though, he was just out looking for another lost lamb.

Nothing jumped out and threatened to eat him.  The weather was perfect, it seemed, and unlike the official members of this crew Reynir wouldn’t be ducking into any dark buildings where something might be nesting.  Nevertheless, he kept the kitten held close and every few minutes ran a comforting hand through her fur to make sure she wasn’t puffed.

Not that Reynir would know what to do if she was.

The battlefield, when he came upon it, was impossible to mistake:  fallen rubble, scorch marks, and a few shredded giant tentacles littered the ground.  There was, however, no sign of Emil.

For the first time that morning, Reynir hesitated.  There was no way he’d ever be able to search through all of this rubble by himself—should he dig?  Break the first rule and shout?  What if Emil _was_ still alive but incapable of answering?  And if he wasn’t…  Reynir hadn’t thought what to do if he was in too many pieces to carry back.  What kind of awful would-be rescuer was he that he didn’t even… think…

There were tracks.

Reynir nearly jumped up and whooped before he caught himself and remembered where he was.  Not monster tracks either—booted feet, human, slightly smaller than his… and heading in exactly the wrong direction.

Emil must have been disoriented.  He had simply gotten lost!

Reynir grinned.  Bringing lost ones back to the fold was exactly what he was good at, and to a shepherd, Emil had left a clear trail.  “So what do you think?  Is it safe?”  The kitten gave an affirmative purr, and Reynir set out into the dead city.

* * *

Emil flopped onto the crumbling remains of what had once been a bench and let out a sigh.

He was hungry.  He was thirsty.  His feet ached—he’d been walking for _hours_.  Worse, his flamethrower was empty, and firing his gun would only attract attention that he did not want.  The sun was high now, but before long, it would start sinking again.  Then, he’d be trapped outside.  In the Silent World.  At night.  Again.

The others would look for him… right?

Sigrun called him her right-hand warrior—would she give up on him, just like that?  (Holding him back when he would have run in; she’d already assumed that Lalli was dead.)  Would _Lalli_?  (Lying comatose on the floor, refusing to wake no matter how much Emil prodded him.)  If nothing else, it was the medic’s job to keep them all alive; Mikkel…

“ _Trying isn’t always a beneficial course of action._ ”

He was going to die here, wasn’t he?  Emil buried his face in his hands.

What was the use?  He’d already proven that he was useless at finding the tank on his own, and even if someone _did_ come after him, he’d gotten so turned around that they wouldn’t be… able… to…

Emil blinked.  He reached up to rub his eyes, quickly learned that the amount of dust he now had on his gloves didn’t help his vision, and blinked again.

No.  No, he was _not_ seeing what he thought he was seeing.  He was starting to hallucinate from lack of water.  That was the only possible way, because there was no way that _anyone_ would send out the non-immune _civilian_ to look for him, and even if they would, the two of them were mortal enemies… right?

But no:  there he was, cat on shoulder, red braid flapping in the breeze, waving enthusiastically as the biggest grin Emil had ever seen spread beneath the mask he wore over his face.

* * *

“Oi, Mikkel.  I haven’t tripped over the kid in a while.  Where did he get to?”

“That’s probably because I told him to stay out of the…”  Mikkel trailed off as his eyes darted, alarmed, about the interior of the tank; there was no way that anyone, no matter how quiet and unobtrusive he was being, could remain unnoticed for that long, not in so small a space.  “Tuuri!” he snapped.  Her head shot up.  “Have you seen Reynir?”

“No, not since…”  She, too acquired a worried look as she realized exactly how long it had been since _anyone_ had seen Reynir.  “…this morning…”

No.  No, just _no_.  They had already lost Emil, they had _not_ managed to lose Reynir, the _civilian_ , the _non-immune_ civilian with whose safety they’d been charged…

Then, Sigrun was swearing, vaulting her way out of the tank with her gun already on her back while Mikkel was still trying to get his jacket on; Tuuri was yelling that the kitten was missing too, and Reynir’s mask; then they were both scrambling to find his trail in time, the kid with no training and no survival instincts who’d somehow thought it would be a good idea to take a stroll straight into troll country…

He was so distracted he nearly ran right into Sigrun, who had stopped right outside the door of the tank.  She was staring out along the tracks, frozen in place as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Mikkel stared as well.

There, coming at them along the tracks with a big smile on his face and a kitten on his shoulder, was Reynir, and walking beside him, limping slightly, bruised, clothes covered in dirt, but definitely walking and definitely alive, was _Emil_.

Either Reynir was the luckiest man in the Known World… or he was more use than anyone had given him credit for.  Either way, he thought as he treated Emil’s (thankfully minor) injuries and Sigrun ruffled Reynir’s hair in appreciation, maybe it was just as well they’d brought him along.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is to your satisfaction. I signed up for this prompt before realizing that I had absolutely no idea how to make it work, but I think that I got there in the end.


End file.
